First One, then the Other
by Merkwerkee
Summary: Jim and Blair get dumped into Middle Earth - but they don't arrive together. A little Jim/Blair, if I continue. No other slash
1. Chapter the First

**I own nothing, everything recognizable belongs to Pet Fly and the big man himself (Tolkein)**

**This plot bunny came to me at a fortuitous time - right in the middle of drama class, when I needed to look busy. Leave a review if you think it's good enough to be worth continuing**

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><p>Sniff. Sniff. Unfamiliar scents wash over my nose as I slowly claw my way towards consciousness. They weren't bad smells – woody deciduous trees, deer musk, the lighter smells of lesser creatures – but something was missing. I couldn't quite tell what, though, so I switched over to hearing. I heard birds, flying from tree to tree and chirping, a smaller animal (perhaps a fox?) trotted easily between the brush, and squirrels chattered from the branches, scolding each other and any other critter that offended their sensibilities. Everything sounded normal, for a forest, but something wasn't right there either. I was listening for a specific sound, but I couldn't hear it. I was missing something, someone vital, and it made me uneasy. I tried to remember what I was searching for, but my head...I push the thought away, in the process turning down a dial I'd forgotten I had. Wait, dial? Dials? Something important about dials, someone telling him to "turn the dials down, man." The voice – whoever was saying that phrase was important. It was who he was looking for – yes, that sounded right. I was looking for the man – boy? - who told me to turn down the dials. Satisfied, I extended my senses again, feeling the air flow across my skin, smelling the forest smells, hearing – oh-oh. A new sound reached his ears, one he was familiar – footsteps on the carpeting of old leaves that rested on the forest floor. The footsteps quick, sure, and unmuffled – whoever was walking was familiar with the territory, and confident they could deal with anything unexpected they found. And whoever it was, wasn't who I was looking for – I knew it instinctively. I also knew that if the stranger found me lying here helpless, things would probably not end well. So I opened my eyes, and...<p>

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><p>I, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was nearing Bree when I came upon a most unusual sight: a man dressed in strange clothing, laying on the ground. I could see no wound, but he looked dead. I quickly knelt beside him and felt for a pulse. To my relief, I found one – though it was weak and thready. Or rather, it started weak and thready but grew stronger even as I kept my fingers in place. Slowly, the light came back into his eyes and he blinked. I removed my hand as he groaned. "Where...am I?" he asked as he brought up his hand to cover his eyes. "Near the town of Bree," I inform him, keeping my curiosity under wraps until I was sure he was coherent enough that I would get a straight answer.<p>

It was a good thing I had, for it seemed he hadn't been expecting an answer to his query. In a flash, he was on his feet in a defensive crouch, hands curling into fists. "Who the hell are you? Where the hell is Bree? And where is he?" I raised my hands in a pacifying gesture "Easy! Had I meant to harm you, I could have done so while you lay helpless." He frowned, but slowly straightened out of the crouch. His hands remained curled into fists, however, and his eyes – _his eyes!_ Like two chips of ice, I could almost feel them staring into the core of me, chilling what they saw there. I almost shivered, but he broke off the staredown first. I was oddly grateful. "Yeah, well, you still haven't answered my questions," he growled. I inclined my head "My apologies. I am called Strider, and Bree-town is in Bree-land," I paused as I saw his confusion "Eriador? Middle Earth?" I tried. He shook his head to both. "Doesn't ring a bell. But then, I think I'm missing...stuff." He grimaced in pain as he brought his hand to his head. I saw that my earlier estimation had been mistaken - he had a painful-looking lump on the back of his head. "My head...I don't remember...I'm looking for someone," he said firmly, desperately "I have to find him. He can make the mess in my head go away. Straighten it out. I have to find him," he repeated desperately. "Help me find him," he pleaded, stepping towards me. I was not made of stone, and I could not refuse him. I had other concerns, however, which pressed me on to Bree-town.

Well, perhaps he would find who he was looking for there. Bree-town was fairly large and well-situated, with many people passing through – though fewer in recent years, with the shadow in the East growing and the Riders roving the land. If he did not find who he was looking for in Bree-town...We would cross that bridge when we came to it, I decided. "Come with me to Bree-town then, and see if you can find "him" there," I offered gently. I saw indecision flash briefly in his eyes, before being replaced by steely resolve. He nodded, and I smiled before turning and starting off again towards Bree-town. Even with this interruption, we should make it in just as the sun was setting. I was glad – even so far west, the roads had become unsafe to travel at night. I glanced back, and noted with satisfaction that the stranger had no trouble keeping up with me. A thought occurred to me, and I paused. He looked at me with a question in his eyes. "You must have a name," I said "I cannot have you accompany me and call you nothing but 'stranger.'" He nodded and closed his eyes. He groaned and staggered even as he brought his hands to his forehead. I reached out in concern, and steadied him. "Are you well?" I asked in concern. He shook his head "It hurts...every time I try and remember something, it hurts...My... name...is...Jim." He huffed and groaned. "I'll be alright...in a minute." I held him steady while he slowly got himself back together. "Are you ready to continue?" I asked after he could finally stand on his own. He nodded, and together, we turned and continued on to Bree-town. After seeing the pain missing his person had caused, I could only pray to the Valar that he found whoever he was looking for in Bree.


	2. Chapter the Second

**I lied. Here's the second chapter, and not a review in sight. Oh well**

**Everything recognizable belongs to Pet Fly Or whassisname - Tolkein**

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><p>I was grateful this "Bree-town" place, wherever the hell it was, wasn't too far. We managed to get there by sunset, and no sooner had we arrived then Strider – if that really was his name; I had my doubts, but I figured that I could always hash them out later -had gone immediately into what could only be called an inn. I paused just outside, and looked around. Something was off about this place – the whole town, in fact. Flashes of square buildings with bright neon signs warred with the inn I saw before me. The whole thing started to make my head hurt again, so I gave up trying to reconcile what I saw in my memories with the information my eyes were feeding me and simply followed Strider inside.<p>

As soon as I walked in the door I was assaulted by the mixed scents of unwashed bodies and beer._ Dial it down, man._ I still couldn't remember who said that to me, even though I was looking for him, so I ignored it and simply pushed the stench to the back of my mind. My pauses, both inside and outside the door had given Strider ample time to claim a table by the fire. Passing by a table I assumed was for the children of the patrons – they were so little, and I'd heard of places that allowed minors to consume alcohol – I went and sat down across from Strider, ignoring the looks the other patrons were giving me. I had followed him this far, though I wasn't quite sure why I followed him – I barely knew the guy. Still, there was something trustworthy about him, something that had my instincts assuring me he was a good guy. Mentally, I shrugged and shelved the subject; I was the physical one of the Guardian Pair. _Sentinel_, the voice that told me to dial it down said. My brow furrowed in thought. Guardian Pair, sentinel..._Guide._ That's who I was looking for – my guide!

Relieved by the revelation, I looked at Strider. "Why this place?" I asked bluntly. "This can't be the only game in town, but you went right for it. You must either have business here, or you're waiting for someone." Strider answered guardedly, seeming to weigh every word before he said it "I am here to...look out for some acquaintances of a friend." He nodded toward the table for children. I looked at them, then back at Strider while frowning "Somebody asked you take care of their kids?" It was Strider's turn to look confused "Why would anyone wish me to look after young goats?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. "Children. I meant children. Jeez, can't a guy use slang without someone trying to correct him?" He looked more confused, but seemed like he wasn't going to rise to the bait of my rhetorical question.

"I assure you, those are not children. Those are hobbits." I looked again, scrutinizing them closely. Now that I was really looking, I could see the differences between them and children. They were all around three feet tall, had slightly pointed ears, what seemed to me to be an inordinate amount of hair on the tops of their feet, and they were proportioned like normal human adults. I took a deep breath, sorting through the bouquet of scents before I found some I couldn't recognize. They were earthy scents, dark and warm, and seemed to belong to the group of hobbits. "Those are hobbits?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the little creatures almost as if I was afraid they would vanish if I looked away. I wasn't sure of much yet, but I was adamantly positive that I had never seen anything like them before. "Yes. Stop staring! I would rather they didn't notice our presence yet," he hissed as he fitted word to action, turning his attention to a long pipe he had pulled a pouch at his belt.

I turned away from the hobbits, knowing that Strider was right as I could already hear them whispering about "the icy-eyed man beside the fire." I watched with a vague interest as Strider packed the bowl of the pipe with some sort of tobacco in easy, long-practiced movements. Something niggled at the back of my thoughts – for some reason, I sensed danger in his actions. I tried to remember what could be so dangerous about smoking to a person who wasn't actually smoking as Strider leaned over and lit his pipe from the fireplace. Straightening up, he took a deep puff and held it briefly, clearly savoring the taste, before releasing a cloud of smoke in a long exhale. Only the barest whiff came my direction, and I only inhaled lightly, yet I felt as if it was burning my sinuses from the inside. The burning sensation trailed a painful line down my throat before igniting my lungs. I started coughing uncontrollably, trying desperately to clear the smoke from my lungs. My guide's voice came back to me – _Dial it down, man!_ Slowly, desperately, I imagine a dial and, labeling it "smell," begin turning it down slowly. I can feel, distantly, someone – presumably Strider – pounding me on the back and the voice calling for ale from the barkeep confirmed it. Turning down the dial is hard, the distractions making it slip from my grasp frequently. I persevere, and am rewarded by the burning sensation in my lungs and soft tissues fading. It continued to fade until, when I got the dial down to two, it ceased completely. A few more coughs to make sure it was really gone, then I accepted the mug of ale from the bartender. "You can stop hitting me anytime Strider," I remarked in a dry, hoarse voice. "I've got it under control." He hit me one more time – for good measure, I suppose – then he turned to the bartender and thanked him while he handed him a coin.

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><p>After I paid old Barliman and thanked him for bringing the mug over himself, I resumed my seat and eyed Jim warily. "May I continue?" I asked, gesturing with my pipe. "Go ahead. I just wasn't prepared the first time you lit up, is all." I nodded and puffed pensively. What had made Jim start coughing? I hadn't exhaled that much smoke, and certainly not in his direction.<p>

Other actions of his curdled in my mind – he started at flocks of birds several minutes before they took flight, and his eyes seemed to bore an icy hole in all they stared at. Something was odd about Jim, something I couldn't put my finger on...

Still. It did not matter much if he was not under the shadow in the East – and there was something about this "Jim Ellis-son" that suggested he rather fight Sauron to the death before he ever bowed to him. His interest in the hobbits, though – that was extremely worrisome. Perhaps he was being influenced by the Ring? If it was already meddling with his mind, then it would perhaps be best if I discouraged him from following me further.

"I made some inquiries while you were waiting outside," I murmured, barely audibly. "There have been no strangers save those four hobbits and us for more than a week and a half." No ordinary person could have heard me over the racket inside the inn, but Jim nodded and looked disappointed as he settled back into his chair, sweeping the room with his watchful, icy gaze once again. That cemented it, in my mind. Something was extremely odd about Jim, and my instincts were all but shouting at me that he could be useful if he would agree to help. I decided to take him along when I took the hobbits to Rivendell – if Elrond didn't know what to make of him, Gandalf would.

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><p>I directed my attention back to the hobbits' table as the noise from that direction increased, just in time to see one of the hobbits – the black haired one – climb onto the table and start singing and dancing. I smirked – clearly, some things were universal across species. The hobbit made a high leap, it apparently being part of the dance, but didn't manage to stick his landing. Wobbling, the hobbit fell off the table – but disappeared halfway to the floor.<p>

I stared. My ears were telling me he was there, and the wind currents in the room flowed across my skin just the same as if he had, in fact, hit the floor. But he had vanished from my sight. I _knew_ he was there – every sense that worked at this distance was screaming at me that he was – but my eyes could not see him. This disturbed me at my very deepest levels – I was a sentinel. Designed by nature to see, hear, smell, taste, and feel what others couldn't. I could hear small footsteps approaching our table and I piggybacked my sight onto my hearing, straining to find the vanished hobbit. The footsteps stopped and then, just as suddenly as he had disappeared, the little black-haired hobbit reappeared right where my ears placed him – right beside Strider's chair.

Strider leaned over and rebuked him softly but harshly. I heard every word, but I couldn't process the exact meaning of each word. I couldn't understand how the hobbit – Baggins? I vaguely remembered Strider calling him – had vanished. There was nothing on Earth that could make person invisible like that. Then I remembered what Strider had said earlier – the name of this place. _Eriador. Middle Earth._ I got a cold feeling in my gut. Somehow, I didn't think I was in Kansas anymore, and I could hope, could only pray, that my Guide had fallen through the looking glass with me. If he hadn't...

I shuddered and pushed that thought away. He had to be here, somewhere, and a nagging feeling said that if I stuck with the Ranger I'd find him sooner. Since I didn't have a better plan, I decided to go along with that one. As long as he didn't object to my presence, I'd stay with Strider.


	3. Chapter the Third

**Here's the third chapter. I meant to upload it yesterd, but I didn't give myself enough time to type it before bed. So here it is a bit late but, I hope, not a dollar short.**

**Anything recognizable, and a few things un, belong to Pet Fly and the Big Man **

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><p>I sent Frodo back to his friends – Gandalf had been right to worry about them, if the display I had just witnessed was near the norm – and turned back to Jim. He looked shocked, not too surprising given the circumstances. It wasn't every day that you saw someone disappear in plain sight. <em>Foolish hobbit!<em> What was surprising, however, was the flash of fear in his eyes. Why was he afraid? Did he know of the evil Frodo carried with him? I could think of no other reason for him to fear – nothing had happened to him, after all. Except that odd coughing fit, of course. Still, if he did know of the object Frodo had in his pocket, I would have to revise my opinions of him. None but a servant of Sauron would recognize the Ring for what it was – at least, not in these settings. Those whose destiny were tied to the Ring also knew it on sight, but I knew of them all – and Jim was not one of them.

Still, I couldn't accuse him until I definite proof whether he was or wasn't. Movement at the corner of my eye attracted my attention, and I turned my head just far enough to see the four hobbits heading up the stairs, presumably going to a room they had rented from Barliman. I returned my full attention Jim, noting that he, too, had been watching the hobbits as they ascended the stairs. "I must follow them. Will be all right, staying here by yourself?" I asked, cautiously. I knew I must sound terribly condescending, but I was genuinely worried – his recent coughing fit had stirred the healer in me, and I did not wish to see him injured or sickened further. He exhaled slowly and nodded, gesturing me to go on. I returned the nod, then slowly an nonchalantly made my way towards the stairs, careful to make sure that I did seem in any hurry and was not, in fact, following the hobbits.

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><p>I watched Strider go, still shaken over my experience with the vanishing hobbit. I track him discreetly around the room, and I have to say he does covert maneuvering pretty well. I leaned back and extended my hearing, following him around and up that way as well. No sooner had he started up the stairs, though, when my reverie is interrupted. A couple local toughs decide that with the Ranger out of the way, they could take potshots at the stranger with the strange eyes. I watch them levelly as they come up and start trying to scare me away. I regard them with disinterest – they aren't fooling me. I can hear the way their hearts are going like jackhammers. Finally, they've had enough and try physically dragging me out of the bar.<p>

I stand, still staring at them. "Are you sure you really want to try that?" I say, keeping my voice tightly even. I've three inches on both of them, and at least twenty pounds. Confronted with that, they back down hastily. I glare around the room one more time, in case someone else is feeling rowdy enough to try and tangle with me. Everyone else, including the bartender, are conspicuously not meeting my eyes. I grunt in satisfaction and settle back into my seat. Closing my eyes, I stretched my hearing out again, and just in time – I could hear the soft scrape as the door closes. I sigh, and concentrate on listening without trapping myself in the sounds. I could feel a headache coming on...

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><p>I had no trouble locating the room Frodo and his friends were staying in – despite our proximity to the Shire, there were not <em>that <em>many rooms sized for hobbit-folk. Theirs was the only such room with light shining out from under the door. I carefully eased the door open just far enough for me to slip inside, closing it softly behind me as I contemplated the scene that confronted me. Frodo's three friends had armed themselves with skillets, most likely from the cooking gear in their packs, and were brandishing the makeshift weaponry in a manner they clearly thought was threatening, as they had taken up positions between Frodo and I. "What do you want with Master Frodo?" demanded the stout, sandy-haired one – Samwise Gamgee, from Gandalf's descriptions. I ignored him, and addressed Frodo instead. "Your friends do you credit, Master Baggins, but your indiscretion in the common room earlier could spell all your deaths." The two hobbits I didn't recognize fingered their skillets nervously and took a step back. Samwise, conversely, took a step forward, clearly taking my statement as a threat to his "Master Frodo." I was dubious about the other two hobbits, but Frodo seemed to trust them. It would have to suffice for me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Frodo declared – but I heard the uncertainty in his voice. He knew _exactly _what I was talking about. "Oh, I rather think you do Master Baggins. Evils roam this land in recent years, on dark horses, searching for the dark taint of their master. Your actions in the common room will draw them here just as surely as moths to a flame." All the hobbits immediately glanced at one another, then looked away and shuddered. If they had seen the Riders before, so much the better; it would make the task of convincing them to let me get them to safety that much easier. "Too many people saw you reserve this room. It would be safest to accompany me to another..." I trailed off as the sound of footsteps became audible, heading up the passageway.

I stepped quietly behind the door, out of the line of sight of anyone who opened it. The footsteps stopped in front of the door, and then their owner knocked. Exchanging a glance with Frodo, I motioned for him to go ahead. "Who is it?" he called. "Barliman, if please you, young master," a familiar voice came in reply. "Come in, then," Frodo said with his relief evident in his voice. Samwise and the other two hobbits hastily concealed their makeshift weapons as the door opened to admit the kindly, old innkeeper. "I was worried for you, young sir. I saw that Ranger sneak off this way, and, well," he paused, catching sight of me out of the corner of his eye. "Here now! What are you doing here?" he demanded. "He is here by my permission," Frodo interjected quickly. "I thank you for your concern, but I assure you – I am quite safe." Barliman frowned, but contented himself with muttering about Rangers and hobbits and other goings-on as he turned and left.

Frodo regarded me suspiciously. "He has a point. How do we know we can trust you? We were supposed to meet Gandalf here, not some Ranger." I inclined my head. "Who do you think sent me? I do not pretend to know why he sent me instead of coming himself, but he gave Barliman a letter to confirm my story." Frodo frowned, and drew out a grubby slip of parchment from his belt-pouch. "You are Strider, then?" I bowed. "At your service," I said as I straightened up. Before Frodo could reply, a knock sounded at the door and all five of us froze. We all shared a glance. None of us had heard anything coming down the passage, and while I could of a few beings who moved that quietly, none were on the premises – of that much I was sure. I motioned for the hobbits to pick up their pans even as I drew my sword and eased over behind the door. Frodo pressed back against the wall near the window, while his friends resumed their defensive places in front of him. I counted down silently, then flung the door open, expecting the worst.

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><p>My hands were shaking. I gripped the frying pan tighter, disguising that fact. Merry and Sam were having no troubles with their pans, and I couldn't let Frodo down. The Ranger was intimidating, but if Gandalf had sent him, he must have their best interests at heart. If he was nervous about whoever was knocking at the door, then we had better be ready, too. He counted down with his fingers, then flung the door open. I gasped. <em>It was the man with the ice eyes!<em> I could feel my fingers going slack on my pan. I'd _never_ seen anybody with that eye color. It couldn't be natural – he had to be some unnatural creature! _And he was staring at me!_

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><p>I stood in the doorway surveying the room. I couldn't see Strider, but I could hear him breathing behind the door. "It's just me, Strider," I said dryly. All four hobbits looked at me askance, but Strider came around the door and pulled me inside, sheathing his sword and shutting the door as he did so. "What are you doing? How did you move so quietly?" he demanded. I frowned as I got all the way into the room. Even with sense of smell turned way down, I could still smell the fear in the room. All the hobbits' hearts were hammering away like jackhammers, and their faces were pinched. I couldn't quite see why – nothing Strider had said seemed all that scary to me. Still, maybe they knew something I didn't? No matter, I decided. I had set myself a job to do and I was going to do it.<p>

"I overheard you were going to move them to a safer room, so I went ahead and got one. I made sure to get the safest I could find, so don't look at me like that. I'm here to help you get them," I indicated the hobbits with a jerk of my head, "there safely. And I wasn't moving quietly, I made enough noise coming up the hallway to wake the dead." Strider merely shook his head, so I turned my full attention to the hobbits. The black-haired one – the one Strider called "Baggins," I recalled – was pressed up against the far wall by the window, looking between me and Strider in suspicion. A stout, blond-haired hobbit was hovering in front of him, clearly not about to let either of the tallest people in the room past him. The other two hobbits were staring at me.

I frowned again, and examined them both closely. One was shorter and slimmer than the other, though they both had tousled, curly hair and blue eyes – probably related, I supposed, though not closely. The taller one dropped his gaze first, but the shorter one continued to stare at me. The taller one elbowed his companion and hissed "Pippin! It's rude to stare!" The shorter one – Pippin – didn't stop staring though. "Pip! What are you staring at!" whispered his taller compatriot. "His eyes," Pippin answered in a normal tone of voice "Merry, he's got little chips of ice for eyes. See them Merry? What manner of man has ice for eyes, Merry?" I looked between the two of them in concern. Was Pippin all there in the head? The stout blond seemed to be having his doubts as well. "Now you listen here, Peregrine Took! It ain't your place to talk about a man's eyes, and I'm sure he knows what manner of man he is. Now leave him be and go pack our stuff up." "Yes Sam," answered Pippin meekly as he and his taller friend – Merry – went over and started putting away what little they had taken out of the packs. I could feel their covert glances, though, and heard their whispered conversation.

The stout blond – Sam – distracted me from said conversation by stepping forward and addressing Strider. "All right, Mister Strider, we'll go with you. But don't try nothing." The Ranger nodded "I give you my word that neither of us shall harm you." Seemingly satisfied, Sam went over and finished the packing Merry and Pippin had started. They each picked up a pack – even Baggins – and followed me out the door towards the new room.


	4. Chapter the Fourth

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**Anything recognizable, and a few things un, belong to Pet Fly and the Big Man **

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><p>I stood across from Strider as we both kept watch by the window. I may have had my doubts about his name, about what we were doing, about the future, but I couldn't fault the man for doing it. He genuinely cared for the little hobbits. Hell, so did I – something about them set all my protective instincts on edge. I was getting a headache from turning all my senses up as far as I dared, but I couldn't not watch with all I had. A nervous energy pulsed in my veins, driven by the fact that I <em>knew <em>something was coming – and my panther could feel it too. It was laying on the floor between the two beds, making no noise but I could see its yellow eyes glinting as it kept up a wary surveillance. The tension that thrummed along my nerves banished any drowsy eyes on my part as well, which worked out because there were only two beds in the room and the hobbits had already divvied them up – Merry and Pippin on one bed with Frodo and Sam on the other. I smiled slightly at their startling resemblance to a bunch of kids sacked out after a hard day playing. Any amusement I felt was sucked away at my next thought; what had actually tired them out, of course, was a hard day's walk and the stress of keeping up their guards. I sighed and stared out the window once again, when a strange sound reached my ears.

I cocked my head, listening harder to try and sort through the noise. "What? What is it?" Strider asked in a low tone of voice, but it was almost too loud in my ears. I winced and made a vague shushing motion at him. He looked at me impatiently, but stayed quiet. Finally, it clicked. "Hoofbeats," I answered softly. Noticing his impatient look was still in place, I decided I'd answered too softly. "Hoofbeats," I said, a little louder, and winced when my own voice hurt my ears. His eyes had already gone back to the window, probing the darkness outside. It wasn't all that dark to me, but I suppose it would be all but impenetrable to him. He stilled as the sound of hoofbeats reached his ears too. As the hoofbeats grew louder and louder, my panther stood and joined us at the window. Just as it peered over the sill, I heard someone shouting. _The gatekeeper_, I recalled, even as his terrified cry was cut off my a harsh band and some nasty crunching noises. The sounds had my hands over my ears – they were so damn loud! - and startled the hobbits awake.

"What's happening?" Frodo asked, fear thick in his voice. I can't answer – my head is screaming, every sound too loud, every smell assaulting my nose, my clothes feel like they're abrading away most of my skin. _Shit, what a time to spike_ I think frantically, trying to get my senses under control even as my head pounds and my stomach rolls. The sound of the riders dismounting sends waves of agony through my head, but I manage to glance out the window. I got a glimpse of nine figures cloaked in black before the world changed.

I was in the familiar blue jungle, and my senses no longer hurt me. I noted, in dreamlike passing, that I was the panther; I twitched my tail and peered at the nine intruders in MY jungle. They weren't in black though – they were all white, and I wished I couldn't see them so clearly. They looked like all the horrifying pictures of the Holocaust all rolled up into nine. Lipless, noseless faces grimaced out from under greasy, twisted strands of hair and corrupted crowns. What they were wearing might have been considered fine once, but they were all in rags now, hanging limply from skeletal frames with every tear exposing pockmarked flesh. I drew my lips back in a soundless snarl, but I couldn't attack them now. They outnumbered me, and the other half of my soul was missing. I backed away until they vanished behind the jungle foliage that rapidly reverted to the room where we were all currently residing. The hobbits were eyeballing me strangely, but Strider spoke before they could ask any questions "Quiet! Listen!" Almost involuntarily, my hearing extended as far as I dared. Metal-booted footsteps were progressing towards the room we had recently vacated – leaving behind a little surprise that would hopefully discourage our pursuers. As the footsteps ceased, I heard the steely hiss of swords being removed from their sheathes – though the sound was somehow cold, icier than the winds that blew across my city in the winter. In an almost silent fury, the...whatever they were stabbed the lumps on the bed, again and again. I smirked to myself as I heard the feathers fly and saw them look around in confusion. Realization seemed to dawn, then...

PAIN. INTENSE PAIN. Agony ripped through my head as they screeched their fury. I might have screamed, but I couldn't hear myself. I covered my ears, but I could still hear that awful screeching. I felt something hard strike my knees, then my side, and realized I must have fallen. I concentrate on the feel of the wood on the back of one hand, encouraging the blank nothingness that soon overcame me. Oblivion _had_ to be better than this hideous pain. And then I knew no more for awhile.

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><p>I tried to grab Jim as he fell, but I wasn't quite fast enough. The shrieking Riders had already departed, but he didn't remove his hands from his ears. "Whats wrong with him?" asked Pippin nervously. "His eyes are staring right through me." I glanced sharply at the young hobbit, but when I managed to get him rolled over on to his back, I saw Pippin was correct. Jim's eyes were open, but there was nothing behind them. His pupils didn't expand or contract as I wave my hand over them, and he didn't blink when I snapped my fingers. In fact, if I hadn't known better, I would have said he was dead. A thought struck me – how did I know better? Quickly, I found the pulse at his throat. It was almost the same as when I had come on that first time in the forest. In fact, it was almost precisely the same; when I first found it it was weak, and thready, but it grew stronger the longer I kept my fingers in place. I finally removed my fingers when he took a deep, shuddering breath and his eyes slipped closed. "Jim. Jim!" I said, shaking him gently. "What happened?" He groaned, and scrubbed at his eyes. "Must have zoned. That's twice in as many days, damn it." He groaned again, and levered himself off the floor. "Gotta stop using my senses so much," he muttered as he stretched.<p>

I frowned. What would senses have anything to do with anything? A man had his senses, and used them to move safely about in this world. Granted, some had better ones than others, and an Elf's senses were superior to any Man's. I could not understand, but decided not to press the issue as Jim snagged one of the packs and a blanket and settled himself down at the foot of Pippin and Merry's bed. The hobbits looked askance, but could not really object. We would all need as much sleep as we could get, come morning. Following Jim's example, I grabbed another pack and my cloak and settled myself under the window – just in case.


	5. Chapter the Fifth

**Sorry for the delay. 3-day weekend = lazy**

**As ever, everything recognizable and a few things un don't belong to me**

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><p>I woke up feeling tired. The sight of Jim's eyes, fixed and staring like he was dead, had haunted my dreams, leaving my sleep thin and restless. I had never seen a dead person before, but that was exactly how I imagined they'd look. It had shaken me to my core, and I knew I never wanted to see something like that ever again. I barely heard Frodo discussing plans with Strider – I was too busy watching Jim. I was really worried about him – I never wanted to see that look on his face ever again. I think Merry and Sam knew; Merry kept shooting me looks and Sam shoveled small tasks into my arms. I could tell they were worried about me, and I appreciated it.<p>

It looked like Frodo and Strider were finshing up with their little conference – with Barliman, I noted absently, wondering when he had come in. I must have been too distracted to notice. Wait, they were calling Jim over. I trotted up to them as well, even though I hadn't been called. "Jim, we will be busy making final arrangements here. As you no doubt overheard, there is only one beast of burden for sale in the entire town. A fellow by the name of Bill Ferny is selling his pony. Can you go acquire it, please?" Strider asked absently, his mind clearly elsewhere. Jim just nodded, apparently recognizing that he probably wouldn't get any more information. "I'm going too," I said. Jim just looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "You don't know the way to Ferny's stable. And what if...you know...happens again? You'll need someone else there." He frowned, face instantly clouding over. "I don't need any help. Especially not from someone who can't even keep his mind on his own work, let alone someone else's!" he growled, almost literally. I turned a brilliant red and dropped my gaze. He _had_ noticed my distraction this morning. Oddly, it was Sam who came to my rescue "Now see here! Pippin's right, Mister Jim! You don't know the way and you can't go on your own. I don't want to hear no more about it, you understand?" he said, planting his fists on his hips and glaring at Jim. Jim looked ready to object, but something about Sam's stance must have told him it would do no good. Sighing, he nodded and turned to the door, motioning me to follow. I nodded my thanks to Sam, and walked after him quickly.

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><p>I swore under my breath sentinel-quietly. Somehow, Pippin had attached himself to me and what was worse was that his little friends seemed to be going along with it. I didn't mind him personally – he seemed bouncy and cheerful, if a bit of an airhead – but he was acting like he was my partner, my guide, and it was rubbing me raw. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally detected the unmistakable scent of stable with my damped-down senses. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner we could get this show on the road and the sooner I would find my real guide.<p>

As we drew even with the stable a greasy-looking individual oozed out, all smiles and subservience. I was instantly on guard; this guy reminded me of a used-car salesman. All help, no hassle, just ask to see your "deal" before you handed over your money. I frowned as a slight headache decided to manifest itself; _where did that come from?_ I wondered. Not getting any satisfactory answers from within or without, I returned my attention to Ferny. "I want to see the pony," I stated firmly, cutting off his no-doubt well-rehearsed spiel about the strength and worth of the beast. He started to puff up indignantly "Sir! Do you doubt my word?" I just glared at him, steadily. Deflating with a sigh, he lead the way into the stable. Walking close behind him, I saw my instincts had been right on the money; even the relative darkness of the interior of the stable failed to hide the sharp angles, swayed back, and scars that decorated the pony from nose to tail.

"How much did you say you wanted for it?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice as even as possible. Apparently I hadn't quite managed to pull it off, though, because some note in my voice had Ferny flinching and clearing his throat. "T-twelve silver pennies, noble sir. I'm sure someone of your means wouldn't miss such a paltry sum." I don't know when Pippin had followed us into the stable, but I didn't need his outraged gasp and furious tugging on my sleeve to know that Ferny was asking an absurd price for his glue factory reject. I brushed Pippin off and waved him quiet, then fixed Ferny with my iciest glare. "Five pennies," I said, speaking slowly both to ensure that he heard me clearly and to keep myself from beating the living shit out him. This pony had been abused for a long time, if I was any judge. "Five pennies, and you throw in the tack too."

He puffed up again, his survival instincts taking a backseat to his injured greed and outrage over my terms. "Five pennies! That is outright robbery! You can take your five pennies, sirrah, and-" he got no further as my hand closed over his mouth and lower jaw and slammed him against the wall. I got right in close to his face and said in a low snarl "You will accept my price. You will throw in the tack. You will not say another word where I can hear you or I will break your jaw and make you swallow all your teeth. Nod if you understand." My lack of sleep last night had done nothing for my mood, it seemed, and I was damned if I was going to let some two-bit hustler slow us down any more than I had to. He nodded frantically – as much as my hand would let him anyway. I released and wiped my hand on my pants with a grimace. "Pay the man," I ordered Pippin curtly as I pulled obviously well-worn tack from its place on the wall and fitted it to the pony as best I could before leading it away without another look at Ferny.

Con men like him grated my nerves, and I somehow felt that a run-in with the local PD over assaulting someone, even someone as obviously sleazy as Ferny, would slow us down considerably. Pippin caught up a short distance down the street, bouncing like a kid at his first basketball game. "That was amazing! I heard Bill Ferny drives a hard bargain, but you taught him a lesson right enough!" Inwardly, I smiled at the praise, but I knew if I showed any hint that I was pleased I'd never be able to get rid of him.

"How old are you?" I asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from me. He stopped bouncing and blinked, apparently nonplussed. "I'm 31**(?),**" he stated proudly. I stopped and stared at him."What is it?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice. "You expect me to believe you're 31?" I asked, looking at him askance. He looked hurt. "I really am! Though Merry says he doesn't believe me sometimes, when he says I'm acting foolishly." I looked at him steadily, and a dull flush suffused his cheeks. "You don't believe me either, do you." It wasn't really a question, and he looked like a puppy that had just been kicked as he said it. I cursed myself even as I softened; I could never resist that look. "Only when you don't act your age," I told him gently as I began walking towards the inn – I had been told it was called "The Prancing Pony" - that we had been staying at and he hurried to catch up.

We walked in silence for a little while, but I am not the most patient person in the world. When I caught Pippin staring at me again for the third time in as many minutes, I couldn't take it any more. "Pippin, why are you staring at me?" I demanded, fed up with the constant sideways glances and furtive looks. He twitched and flushed, but answered me clearly. "I'm trying to forget the way you looked last night," he tried to say steadily, but I could hear the tremor in his voice. I stopped and stared at him again. What about last night – ah. Of course. The zone-out. He seemed to struggle briefly with himself before the dam burst. "It was horrible! You looked like you'd died. I'd never seen a dead person before, but you looked just like I'd imagined a dead person would. And there wasn't a mark on you! Not a drop of blood anywhere. And your eyes – they were staring. You were looking at something I couldn't see, and it sucked the light out of your eyes. It just faded away until you looked like you had glass beads instead of eyes." He shuddered and closed his eyes, before opening them again and looking me guilelessly "It might be selfish, but I don't want to see that. Not ever again." I saw no subterfuge in his eyes, no hint of ulterior motives, and I felt the last of my annoyance slip away. I'd never seen myself when I zoned, but I'd heard similar reactions from people who had had the dubious pleasure of trying to wake me up.

"It's called a zone," I said softly, and he looked confused. "It's called a zone," I said a little louder "It happens when I focus too much on one thing." He nodded seriously. I started walking, debating with myself whether or not I should ask him to sub for my guide. On the one side, anyone who wasn't my guide and who tried to fill in his shoes had only met with very limited success. On the other, I seemed to be trapped in fantasyland ala Stephen King and it seemed to be a very dangerous place to zone out, even for a little while. I sighed and stopped again. Pippin looked at me curiously, but before he could say anything I held up a hand. "You say you don't want me to zone out again?" I asked carefully. He nodded so vigorously I thought his head might fall off. "Easy there. Well, I usually have a partner with me – he distracts me so I don't get too focused on one sense and lose touch with the rest of the world. We ended up separated, somehow, and I have no idea where he is. Until I find him, I need someone to help me out. It's relatively easy for you; just talk to me whenever I'm using my senses, and keep one hand on me as much as possible. It keeps me grounded, see, and "keeps that look out of my eyes," as you put it. What do you say?" He smiled with relief and said "Anything." He slipped his hand into mine, and I marveled at the feel of it - it was so small, like a child's hand. A surge of protectiveness welled up in me, and I silently vowed to keep him as safe as I would my true guide for as long as he needed me to.

"Though you might regret asking me to talk to you later. Merry says I run at the mouth, but I keep telling him that I'm only trying to pass on as much wisdom as I can..." I tune out his words and listen to his voice while simultaneously breathing in his scent, feeling the texture of his skin, and looking at him closely with my eyes. He isn't my guide – but he'll just have to do. I ached deep inside when I thought of my guide, a pang of loneliness assaulting me from the same area as the ache centered itself. _Where are you?_ I called out along the unseen bond I could feel with my guide. I didn't receive an answer, and I felt so alone.

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><p><strong>(?) I think Pippin is 31. If I'm wrong, tell me so and I'll be more than happy to fix it<strong>


	6. Chapter the Sixth

**Anything recognizable belongs to Pet Fly or Mr. Tolkein - not I**

**Also, my apologies for the tardiness in uploading this chapter. I had it ready to go yesterday, but one thing led to another and I ended up polishing it and adding to it through to-day. And I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing**

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><p>I glanced up as the two missing members of our party entered the common room where I had gathered the rest of the party to wait for them. I raised an eyebrow at the sight of Jim's hand firmly clasped in Pippin's, but the hobbit released it almost immediately to rush over and talk excitedly at Merry. Jim just shook his head, though I couldn't tell whether he was shaking it at my eyebrow or Pippin's impulsive actions. <em>Perhaps both<em>, I thought briefly, before returning my attention to more pressing business. "Did you get the pony?" I asked, and managed to attract Pippin's attention away from Merry on to myself.

"Oh yes! We got the pony and tack for five silver pennies!" he bubbled. I frowned. "Five silver pennies is no modest sum for a pony, even including tack," I said in confusion. Why was Pippin so happy about getting such a price for a pony? "Well, Bill Ferny wanted twelve pennies to start out with, but Jim managed to convince him that five was the best price," he replied, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a renowned skinflint like Bill Ferny to agree to a price seven pennies less than what he had originally asked for. I looked at Jim speculatively. "Should we be departing with more haste?" I asked, the glimmer of a suspicion worming its way into my head. Jim met my eyes squarely before shrugging. "I threatened to break his jaw and make him swallow his teeth. The pony isn't in good condition," he added by what he probably thought was by way of an explanation. I was torn between upbraiding him for his conduct and congratulating him on getting such a good price. Deciding that we really didn't have time for either option, I turned and instructed Sam to stow the packs evenly and securely on the pony – it was long past time to leave.

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><p>I took a deep, refreshing breath of pine-scented air. It felt good to be moving again, going forward towards my goal of finding my guide. Pippin was doing a creditable job as a stand-in, though – I swear the kid hadn't stopped talking since we got on the road. I was grateful for the distraction, however; I had opened up all my senses to their fullest, and was scanning both the path and the surrounding forest. This was unfamiliar territory, and it put me on edge to be so far out of my range. I took a deep breath and started to sort through the bouquet of odors that reached my nose; the clean crispness of pine, the subtler scents of moss and decay. A second breath brought the musk of nearby deer, the earthy smell of badgers off to the left. The faint smell of wolf and fainter smells of bear and man had me raising my metaphorical hackles. Satisfied that none of the larger predators were in the immediate area, I turned my sense of smell down and returned my attention to what Pippin was talking about – something about a person named "Bilbo."<p>

I smiled and nodded, pretending to listen to the actual words, though I was actually just letting the voice wash over my ears and provide a welcome distraction of the rest of the world. The other hobbits were tossing us – well, just me most likely – apprehensive glances. Apparently they were wondering how much longer I could take Pippin's inane babbling before I snapped an took his head off. I would snap, I supposed, if I actually had to listen to what he was saying. Since it was just his voice I was listening to, however, I counted it unlikely to be that annoying for awhile. Thankfully, Strider was far enough ahead that I didn't have to deal with sympathy from that quarter.

Finally it appeared Sam, at least, had had enough. "Let the man alone! We don't want to listen to you blather on all the day long, an' if we don't he certainly don't!" Pippin opened his mouth as if to argue, but I put a hand on his shoulder and shook my head. "The talking is meant as a distraction. If you keep at it too long it becomes part of the background noise and is ignored," I murmured softly. Pippin closed his mouth and nodded seriously. Frodo, Sam and Merry looked as us curiously, but Pippin forestalled any questions they might have had by launching into a complaint about how hungry he was and demanding breakfast.

The other hobbits apparently agreed, because they stopped and began breaking out the cooking gear. I looked at them askance – hadn't they already eaten breakfast? I hadn't gotten any, but I assumed they had eaten while Pippin and I had gone to get the pony – whom Sam had rather facetiously named Bill. I shrugged. Apparently, this was how hobbits traveled. Strider came walking back to see what was going on in short order and stared. "Gentlemen, we do not stop 'til night-fall," he said, indicating they should pack their things and get a move on, finding time to give me a glare. I held up my hands as innocently as I could – I hadn't known that this stop was unplanned. Even though I had suspected.

"What about breakfast?" Pippin objected. Strider seemed puzzled. "You already had it," he said. I started doing a bit of staring at the hobbits myself. Why were they stopping to eat breakfast if they'd already eaten breakfast? "We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?" was Pippin's attempt at a witty rejoinder. Strider just shook his head and started walking again. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," Merry observed sagely as he picked up what little equipment he'd managed to get out and put it away again. "What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper! He's knows about them, doesn't he?" Pippin asked frantically. "I wouldn't count on it," replied Merry as he began walking apple came sailing over a bush, obviously thrown by Strider. Merry caught it neatly and handed it to Pippin, who looked stunned. A second apple came sailing over the bush, but I snagged it out of the air and put it in a pocket to save for later. "Try not to think about it too much," I advised Pip. He crunched sadly into the apple.

"But I can't think of anything else to think about," he complained after he'd finished swallowing. "It's so boring, just walking along." I eyed him thoughtfully. "It isn't boring, really," I murmured, for Pippin's ears only. "You want to hear what's been going on in this neck of the woods for the past few days?" He just looked at me in confusion, so I tapped the side of my nose. Comprehension dawned, and he nodded eagerly, taking another bite of his apple as he did so. I started with smell, then moved on to the other senses, keeping my voice low so that the others couldn't hear what I was saying. Hopefully.

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><p>I just couldn't figure it. Firstly, Mister Jim hadn't bitten Pip's head off earlier when he'd been making a fool nuisance of himself. I just assumed he wasn't the sort of person who'd put up with that, I guess. Still, it was odd. Odder still was when I'd tried to get Pip to be quiet, he acted like he hadn't minded Pip's jabbering – though it sounded like he was giving as good as he'd gotten earlier. The sound of his voice so low gave me the shudders, though; any lower, and I'd swear it was a cat purring not a Man talking. There was something odd about Mister Jim, no mistake. I didn't trust his eyes – even when he was actin' nice, they looked as hard and cold as two drops of ice. It was downright unnat'ral, it was. And the other night, when those<em> things<em> had shrieked, all the light and life had gone out those icy eyes. I'd thought they were cold when they had light in them – it was twenty times worse when they was empty. I glanced back and saw an entranced Pippin hanging on to Mister Jim's every word, and it worried me. It worried Merry too – our eyes met as we both looked forward after glancing back. Only Master Frodo seemed unworried – by Mister Jim at least. Master Frodo had bigger things to worry about, I guess, so I kept my concerns to myself. But I'd keep an eye on Mister Jim, just in case – _and just let him try and get passed me to Master Frodo_, I thought. _Let him just try_.


	7. Chapter the Seventh

**The recognizably Sentinel things belong to Pet Fly, and the recognizable things from Lord of the Rings belong to Mr. Tolkein. Anything you don't recognize probably also belongs to one of the two people mentioned above, and may just be a screw-up on my part.**

**I would apologize that this chapter is really late, but as I never promised a fixed schedule in the first place, I don't have to! Hooray for me!**

**Also I would like to thank the 2 (two) of you who favorited/story alerted this story. Pudeln, YastorRisa, you made my days. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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><p>Long tiring hours piled up into long tiring days as we continued walking. I had given up stretching my senses continuously – I nearly zoned on a bird singing before Pippin realized I'd fallen behind and had come to get me – instead opting to do hourly sweeps. Pippin had run out of steam the second day, but would still pester me quietly to tell him what I saw, heard, and smelled whenever we both had enough breath. We had passed out of the evergreen forest a couple days ago, and were now trudging across plains carpeted in a pretty much uniform yellow grass heading for a place Strider called "Amon Sul." Apparently it was a big landmark that we were going in the right direction, and would also provide a degree of safety when we got there - so much so that Strider had decided we'd stay the night no matter when we actually got there. I still had no idea, so I still brought up the rear, even when Strider said we could probably see it from where we were.I looked, but all I saw was a huge pile of rocks.<p>

The closer we got, though, the more I started to realize that the arrangement of the rock's wasn't totally random. Here and there, there were pieces that could pass for architecture – old, broken architecture. When I asked Strider about it, he said something along the lines of "There used to be something there, but there isn't any more." I spent several minutes trying to wrap my head around it before deciding that it wasn't really all that important. I had a vague notion that my Guide would have loved to see the place, but the thought left quickly as soon as I tried concentrating on it, and I growled in frustration. Why could I remember some things but not people? I gave up as Pippin started asking me what was bothering me. No point in bothering these people with it – they couldn't understand anyway.

We ended up arriving at Amon Sul early in the evening and began setting up camp. "Jim, go see if you can find some firewood," Strider ordered. I raised an eyebrow – we'd had nothing but cold camps since we set out, and I didn't like the way he'd ordered me to do it – but I settled for a shrug and a nod. "I'll help," Pippin declared as he dropped his packs next to the others. It was Strider's turn to shrug and nod, effectively giving up on understanding why Pippin stuck close to me and just accepting that he did. I was grateful, but slightly worried – what would Pippin do when I found my real Guide? I couldn't think that far ahead. If I found my Guide everything would be okay...

Pippin's hand on my leg brought me out of my reverie, and I saw Strider had gone off to talk to Sam while I had been thinking. I shook my head, then motioned for Pip to follow me as I walked away from the group. Pippin bounced after me, seemingly relieved. I couldn't fathom how he still had energy enough to do that – we'd been walking all day, and even Strider looked tired. Still, Pip was invaluable when it came to collecting firewood, picking up the stuff I sniffed out but couldn't reach.

Going back to the campsite, we were greeted by a small fire that Sam and the others had managed to start while we were off gathering additional fuel. They looked suitably impressed by the amount of wood we had managed to scrounge up, but any congratulations were cut short by Sam taking charge to direct dinner. Frodo was – to my great amusement – plopped on a blanket and told to stay put while the rest of us went about our appointed tasks. Pippin and I were assigned to watch the soup Sam had put on the fire to make sure that it didn't burn or disappear while Sam went searching for herbs and the dynamic duo – Strider and Merry – went scouting. I decided to take the opportunity to try and get some more information. Our stops for the night on previous days managed to seem more like prolonged rest stops rather than actual camping.

"Pippin," I said, partially turning towards him, but keeping the soup within my line of vision "Where the hell are we going?" Behind Pip Frodo come to attention warily. I couldn't figure out why he was nervous; it was a perfectly legitimate question. Okay, maybe my voice was a bit harsher than I had intended, but that seemed to be something in the air. My voice had been getting harsher for days, though I doubted anyone but another Sentinel would have noticed. I attributed to Pippin's near endless questions – I hadn't talked so much in years. Still, Pippin didn't seem to share his cousin's misgivings and answered readily. "We're going to Rivendell; weren't you listening to Strider when we went over this?" I waved a hand dismissively "Yeah, I heard him – but where's Rivendell geographically? I may not remember as much as I'd like to, but I'm pretty damn sure I've never heard of any place called Rivendell – or Amon Sul, for that matter," I added under my breath. Pippin looked confused "What's 'gee-oh-graf-i-cal-ly'"? he asked in confusion. I sighed "I meant, if you pointed to it on a map, where would it be?" his face cleared somewhat, but he still wasn't exactly cheery.

He glanced at Frodo uncertainly "I don't know much myself. All I know about the place I learned from stories Bilbo used to tell. Frodo would know more – Bilbo is his uncle." It was my turn to look at Frodo uncertainly. I had tried to stay as far away as I could inconspicuously be from him on the way here. Something about him was..._off,_ and though I couldn't tell what or why, he set off most of my instincts. Pippin didn't seem to notice my hesitation, however. "Frodo, where's Rivendell?" he asked in a reasonable tone of voice. Frodo frowned, and pondered the question for a few seconds. "Bilbo always said it was in a huge forest," he started slowly as I stirred the soup "And that it was over a river and behind a steep cliff," he paused and thought some more. "And just before he got there he was captured by some trolls who got turned to stone by the dawn," he finished. It was my turn to frown."So we'll know we're getting close to Rivendell when we find some ugly statuary?" I asked, disbelief colouring my tone. Frodo nodded "If we're taking the same route that Bilbo did, yes."

"Rest assured we are," said Strider as he came up behind us with Merry right behind him. I rolled my eyes. "Good to know," I said sarcastically. "I'll sleep that much better knowing we're going to go through territory known to be in range for trolls." I turned and stirred the soup again, my sudden irritation with this trip making me grumpy. I heard more than saw Strider and Merry go and talk to Frodo, and I assumed Pippin had joined them until I felt a hand on my elbow. "Is something the matter?" Pippin inquired, real worry in his eyes. "I'm fine," I snapped, then winced internally as he flinched and went over to join Merry, Frodo, Sam and Strider. Guiltily, I turned my attention back to the soup. Why had I snapped at Pippin, I wondered. He'd been doing his best to help every step of the way and hadn't been too terribly annoying. I didn't have any more excuse for being irritable than the rest of the group, either. So what had set my teeth on edge?

My thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of Sam bearing several small, fragrant bundles of plants. I relinquished my spot readily and stalked to the edge of the circle of firelight to try and think through my foul mood. I still hadn't figured it out by the time dinner was ready, which only added to my grumpiness. I ate in silence, stoically ignoring all attempts to involve me in the conversation. I watched with only half my attention as after dinner Strider laid down a bundle that sounded suspiciously metallic to my ears.

My guess was confirmed when he unrolled to reveal four short swords, all of them a good length for a hobbit. "I had hoped that you would not need these until later," he said seriously "But I feel you should have them now." Fitting action to word, he handed each hobbit a sword. Pippin and Merry immediately engaged in a mock-fight, shouting nonsense and waving their swords erratically at each other. I nearly smiled, but I was still on edge. Strider turned to me, looking apologetic. "I'm afraid I do not have a weapon for you," he said. I snorted. "Not your fault. Don't worry, I'll be fine," I said as I sifted through the firewood we had until I found a stick with an acceptable heft. He merely nodded in approval at my actions, and turned back to the hobbits to instruct them a bit in how to use, not abuse, their new swords.

I was tired, but I didn't feel like sleeping so I took the first watch. Strider looked like he wanted to argue, but merely contented himself with telling me to keep the fire alive. I just nodded – it was easier to agree. As they settled into their blankets I moved so that my back was to the fire and settled in to wait. I had a bad feeling I wouldn't be waiting long.

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><p>I couldn't sleep. I was really worried about Jim – something had been preying on him all evening, and now he was taking a watch by himself. He'd asked me to sit up with him whenever it was his turn before, and being on watch alone was the sort of thing that seemed likely to make him zone. Sam and Merry had gone to sleep as soon as they had gotten comfortable, and Frodo hadn't been far behind them. I wasn't sure if Strider was asleep or not; with Rangers, it was hard to tell.<p>

My mind kept going to Jim's behaviour earlier. He'd snapped at me and hadn't talked hardly at all during supper. Was it something I'd done, or – sudden noises from Frodo interrupted my thoughts. Further over, beside the fire, I saw Jim stiffen and straighten even as Strider abandoned all pretense of sleep. "Frodo, what is troubling you?" he asked urgently as he approached Frodo carefully. I was wondering that myself, but Frodo had Strider looking after him. Jim was my responsibility. I got up and hurried over to him.

"Jim?" I asked softly, carefully noting his cocked head and distant look. "What is it? What do you hear?" I asked as I placed my hand on his elbow, hoping to keep him balanced. "Hoofbeats, Chief," said Jim, still distracted. "The same ones I heard outside the Prancing Pony. They're coming. Fast."I shuddered at the bleak news, remembering those terrible Riders. My motion seemed to bring him back to himself, and he grabbed my hand even as he motioned for the others to follow him. I was dragged along as he hurried through the ruins, eventually coming to a wide open area with a wall backing half of it. "Get your backs to the wall and _stay there_," he growled. My eyes widened – he had sounded nothing like himself. It almost sounded like an animal growling. Mutely, I nodded, and he looked slightly relieved. "I'm going back and getting the fire. Strider, stay and protect them," he ordered. His voice was still a growl, and Strider seemed to realize that arguing would probably be bad for his health as well. "How long have we got?" he asked softly. Jim cocked his head. "Five minutes. Maybe less," he answered finally. Turning on his heel he ran back towards the campsite with surprising fluidity.

I looked around at Frodo, Sam, and Merry nervously, and I could see they shared my feelings. I gulped and drew my blade, and steely hisses around me told me the others had mimicked my actions. It seemed a long time, but was really no time at all before I felt cold creeping up on me, and the clank of metal boots on stone echoed around the ruins. The Nine were here, and I could see them standing between the pillars on the far side of the space. _Where's Jim?_ I thought frantically. Strider was here, menacing them with his sword, but Jim still hadn't made it back. What if he had zoned? What if he wasn't coming back? My heart constricted with fear, even as I heard Sam cry out behind me. I turned just in time to see Frodo vanish. Just as he did, the Nine attacked. I whipped around to face front just in time to duck a slash meant for my neck. I dodged another blow, and blocked a third. Cold crept up my arm as my sword rang with the strike. I heard Frodo scream in pain, and suddenly Jim was there. Two fiery brands, one in each hand, lent a yellow glow that bolstered my courage even as it lit the scene. He roared and charged the Nine, and my plucked-up courage vanished. That roar sounded like nothing that should come from a Man's throat, and the grace with which he moved seemed uncanny.

No doubts about his effectiveness, though – each time he swung his brands, another Rider fled burning into the night. It wasn't long before they were all gone. Strider ran over to Frodo, who was lying on the ground gasping even as the injury to his shoulder bled sluggishly. One of those horrible blades the Riders had been using was sitting on the ground next to him with the tip broken off, and Strider picked it up to examine it more closely. As soon as his hand touched the hilt, however, the blade crumbled away to dust. Strider blinked, then examined Frodo closely. "He has been poisoned by a Morgul blade, and he needs elven medicine, quickly, if he is to survive. Sam, help me unload the pony. Riding instead of walking will help slow the poison." Suiting action to word, he started pulling packs off of Bill, with Sam joining him shortly thereafter.

Jim still hadn't moved, though, so I cautiously sheathed my sword and walked closer. "Jim?" I said softly "Are you alright?" He didn't answer, but I could see him breathing heavily and trembling. "Jim?" I repeated, walking slowly around him to get a better look at his face. Once I had done so, I wished I hadn't. I gasped loudly at his eyes – they weren't blue anymore, they were_ yellow. _And his teeth looked longer and sharper than they ought to, though I only saw those for an instant. My gasp drew the others attentions over, but also seemed to get through to Jim. He closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. When he opened his eyes, they were back to their usual icy blue.

"Are you both well?" Strider said from where he was messing with the packs. "Fine. We're both fine," Jim cut in before I could answer. Strider looked at me closely, but I just nodded. Jim looked at me carefully. "What did you see?" he asked softly. I gulped. "Y-your eyes – they were yellow. And your teeth were long and sharp," I said in a small voice. He frowned. "What _happened_ to you?" It was my turn to be soft and urgent. Jim looked at me for a few moments with an unreadable expression before he closed his eyes. "I don't really remember much," he said, still softly "I went back to the campsite, and saw my spirit animal pacing near the fire. It looked up when I got closer, then sprang at me. I don't remember anything else until you gasped." I looked at him in confusion. What were spirit animals? And what did they have to do with what happened to Jim? Any questions I had had to be stored away for later asking, though, because just at that moment Strider stood up and announced it was time to get moving. So we went, picked up our packs, and started off.

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><p><strong>Questions? Check. Answers? ...maybe later<strong>

**Be sure and review if you enjoyed it**

**New info: I'm slowing down in putting up chapters not because I don't know what I'm doing, but because I find it actually very difficult to type. I type slowly, and my hands start hurting pretty quickly. So my apologies about the speed**


	8. Chapter the Eighth

**Yeah, sorry for the shortness of this chapter and the amount of time it took me to put it up. Typing is not my strong suit. Anyway, I may make the next update another chapter, or just an add-on to this one. Depends on how it goes.**

***insert usual disclaimer about owning nothing here***

**I would to thank The Queen Of Confusion for adding this story to favorites & alerts, Emberryred for doing the same, and The Queen Of Confusion for reviewing. Thanks y'all! I appreciate it very much!**

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><p>It had only been a week since we'd hurriedly left Amon Sul, but it felt much longer. Worry for Frodo combined with an exhausting pace did not make for a good measuring of the passage of time. Still, I was grateful for one thing, at least; all the exercise had left us all too exhausted at night to do anything but eat and sleep. It kept Pippin from asking questions, questions to which I had no answers It did not, however, prevent him from shooting me questioning looks which I studiously ignored. He gave it up after a few days, though, as Frodo grew progressively worse. I could smell infection setting in even without my enhanced senses, and if I could then Strider most likely could.<p>

We moved faster and faster, but it wasn't fast enough. I could hear the Riders behind us too, but they stayed far enough back that I figured that Strider had enough on his plate without me adding them to his plate. Besides, if he had half the smarts I gave him credit for he knew they were following us anyway. We had been traveling for a week before delirium set in with a vengeance. I heard him mumbling beforehand, but now the mumblings were audible. And they made no sense, where before they were at least slightly coherent. We finally stopped when Frodo started shivering along with his babbling.

"He needs athelas, if he is to survive to reach Rivendell," Strider declared as he stood up from where he had been examining Frodo. I looked over at him from behind some extremely weird boulders. "Athelas?" I asked, frowning as the name failed to ring any bells. "Kingsfoil," he elaborated, and I just shook my head. Sam seemed to understand what he was asking for because he chimed in with his own ideas on the subject. "Kingsfoil? Aye, I know it. It's a weed! You don't mean to say it'll help Master Frodo?" Strider looked at him squarely. "That is exactly what I mean to say, Master Sam. Perhaps you can assist in searching for it?" Sam gulped and nodded. "We'll help too," Pippin piped up, gesturing to Merry and himself. "I'll go with them, make they stay out of any more trouble than we're already in," I said, and Pippin nodded enthusiastically. "Go, then, and hurry," Strider ordered as he and Sam started off in two different directions.

"Come on," Pippin said as he tugged my hand and started off in a third. Merry and I exchanged looks before following him. It seemed Merry wasn't just along to help because as soon as we were out of earshot of the fire of the fire he turned to me and started in with the third degree. I was surprised – I had honestly expected Pippin to be the one to jump into questioning me first. "What is going on with you two?" Merry asked vehemently. "Pip's been sticking to you like a burr and talking your ear off and you don't seem to care! Then you you go and start acting like he's your child or something back on Weathertop, and then you go and scare him and you haven't said one word to him since! What by all that's green in the Shire is going on?" he finished plaintively. I exchanged looks with Pippin, then shrugged. "You tell him, Pippin. You can explain it to him better than I can," I said, then tuned out the resulting verbal tidal wave that spilled out of Pippin like water through a flood gate. It took him several minutes, during which I idly sniffed the air and cataloged the various scents I detected. There were several I didn't recognize that I filed away in case one of them was the "athelas" or whatever the hell it was we were supposed to be looking for.

I had several possibilities by the time Pippin finally ran out of steam. Merry looked at me seriously. "Is it true? Can you really do what Pip says you can do?" he asked with an odd note in his voice. I nodded cautiously, not entirely sure I'd like where this was going. "I can hear, smell, touch, and taste much better than a normal person," I said. "And you sometimes get lost in your senses?" he asked carefully. I nodded again, still not certain where he was going with this. "But all Pip has to do is talk to you and you won't?" I shook my head this time. "No, but it helps me stay grounded. He can't get through to me all the time – only my Guide can do that." It was Pippin and Merry's turn to exchange a look. "Guide? What do you mean by Guide?" Pippin asked, looking somewhere between confused and frightened. "Where I'm from, people call my kind Sentinels. My Guide is my partner and my better half. He keeps me sane and grounded, and in return I keep him safe by any means necessary. Other people can do it, and I'll protect them too, but my Guide is _mine _and no other's – and I'm his. It's a genetic imperative; we were designed for each other."

Both hobbits looked at me wide-eyed, and I scowled at them. They both hastily looked away. "Where is he, then?" Merry asked as he looked around as if he half-expected my Guide to pop out from behind a bush and yell "Surprise!" or something. I frowned, wishing that my Guide would do just that. "My best guess is that we got separated somehow on the way here. I don't know much – don't remember how I got here or much about what I was doing beforehand. In fact, I don't remember much besides my name, what I am, and who I'm looking for. I get flashes of other things, but they're gone before I can get a good grip on them," I growled in frustration. Merry took an almost instinctive step backward as Pippin stared at me with huge eyes. My own eyes widened as I realized that I actually _growled._ What. The. Hell? Pippin opened his mouth – probably to ask what the hell - but I held up a hand as a subliminal noise made its way to my conscious. Hoofbeats – lighter, and coming from the opposite direction as those Riders. "We have company," I said, cutting across Pippin's repeated questions. "Lets get back to camp. Fast." Neither hobbit argued with me as we jogged back to where we left Frodo. Just because the horseman didn't sound like a Black Rider did not necessarily mean that he was friendly – or on our side, even.


	9. Chapter the Nineth

**Right, okay. Usual disclaimers apply. Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed, favorited and alerted**

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><p>I looked up sharply as a sound penetrated my concentration on searching for Athelas – hoofbeats. My brow cleared as I recognized them – an Elf-horse would never obey a Black Rider, and was lighter on its feet than any horse ridden by Men. Abandoning my efforts and shifting my grip on what little I'd managed to gather, I headed back toward camp. If I had heard it, it was more than likely Jim and Sam had heard it as well and Jim did seem to be the kind of Man who could tell horses apart just from the sound of their hooves. I also had my suspicions about its rider – with the Nine stalking the land, there were few enough who could ride out singly against them. My suspicions were confirmed shortly after I arrived back at the campsite.<p>

Jim was already there with a wary look on his face and a question in his eyes, but I shook my head before he could open his mouth. He pressed his lips into a grim line, and took a defensive position between the hobbits and the hoofbeats as Sam stumbled out of a bush on the far side of the clearing from said hoofbeats. He hurried over to his "Master Frodo" and began fussing while Jim hefted his impromptu cudgel. Before the hobbits could react further, horse and rider emerged from the trees.

I smiled as I recognized the elf on the horse. "Lord Glorfindel. I am glad to see you, with the Nine about on the land. Frodo is in dire need of your assistance." Glorfindel nodded and dismounted before moving to the blanket that Frodo lay on, moaning and shivering. Glorfindel knelt to examine him, and long seconds passed before he looked up at me. "He is beyond whatever help I could give him here. He needs the help of Elrond, and quickly." He stood and made to pick up Frodo, but Jim stepped forward, his icy eyes boring into the elf-lord. "Strider already said that," he said – he wasn't snarling, but those words weren't the friendliest I'd ever heard and they seemed to have an implied "...So what do we need _you_ for?" tagged on the end. Glorfindel looked Jim up and down sharply "Who is this, Estel? He seems an odd sort of companion – even for you." Glorfindel's tone was cold, almost insulting. Jim narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, but I cut in quickly before a fight could start. "His name is Jim. I thought it wise to take him to see either Elrond or Gandalf. He possesses...unusual qualities." Glorfindel continued staring at Jim coldly for a few moments, before sighing and continuing with earlier aborted move to pick up Frodo. "Frodo will have a better time if he rides. We must move quickly." Suiting word to action, he put Frodo up on his horse and stood by as we hurriedly packed up and distributed the weight. Almost before we had finished, he started off.

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><p>I stared at the golden haired...elf? It didn't make sense. Something in my head was denying that such a thing could exist, yet here he was in front of me. Strider had called him Glorfindel – odd name – and he seemed to exude an air of otherworldliness that threw me off. Unlike the hobbits, who I'd mistaken for human children before I'd studied them closer, this person was obviously not human. At all. From the tips of his pointy ears to the soles of his nearly-silent feet. He set a hell of a pace too – even harder than Strider. I added "superhuman stamina" to the list of differences between elves and humans when at the first rest stop he wasn't even breathing hard. I found it irritating – I found it all irritating. I fought it down though, because I knew this wasn't the time or the place. Plus, I'd get an explanation as soon as we reached Rivendell – which we had to do soon.<p>

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><p><strong>I haven't been updating as much because I write this all out in a little notebook before I type it up, and I haven't found the time to write for awhile<strong>


	10. Chapter the Tenth

**I own nothing recognizable**

**Um. Does the length make up for the wait? ^^'**

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><p>I glanced around, edgy. The road we were following wasn't terribly unusual – loose scales of slate made it almost gravelly in texture, and I spared a brief thought for the hobbits and their bare feet. Walking on such stuff without shoes had to be uncomfortable, but they didn't complain. For that, I was grateful – just the crunchy echoes of our footsteps were enough to set my teeth on edge. I probably shouldn't have been stretching my senses without Pippin's constant chatter, but he didn't have the breath and neither of us had the inclination to talk.<p>

The elf was up ahead, one hand on his horse's bridle and the other on his sword. I suspected he was listening just as hard as I was (though probably not as far) by the set of his shoulders and the slight cant at which he carried his head. No-one else would have noticed it, it was that slight, but I was keeping an especially close eye on him, going so far as to pause in scanning the countryside in front of us every few seconds to give him a hard look. Strider must have noticed, because he was dropping back towards me from his previous position near that Glorfindel character. He opened his mouth, and I prepared myself to try and tune out the forthcoming lecture when a sound distracted me. More precisely, an increase of sound.

The Riders were moving in.

I cut Strider off before he got his first word in edgewise. "The Riders are moving up," I called to Glorfindel. I may not trust him, but Strider did and that made him the de facto leader of our motley little assortment. I grabbed Pippin's shoulder without waiting for a reply, turning my hearing down as far as I dared. Now and the next few minutes were no times to befalling on my face in a zone because one of those ghouls screamed. Once I'd finished, I returned my attention to Glorfindel, who was looking at me oddly.

"What?" I snapped, annoyed by his gaze. He merely shook his head, glancing at Strider in a look that said 'You've got some 'splainin' to do,' though probably not in those words. All he actually said was "We have not the time to waste, then," in a reasonable sort of voice that irritated me even more. Before I could snarl a suitably pithy remark, he turned his attention to the his horse, oddly enough, and started speaking to it in a language I didn't recognize. I bristled – I say the enemy is closing in on us, and this guy has to stop and talk to his damn horse? Whatever he was saying seemed urgent enough, but the language itself put my teeth on edge. Not because it sounded bad – the opposite, actually. It sounded too good, easing my jangling nerves, and I couldn't have that, not when we were about to go into combat.

At least he wasn't long about it. After finishing his conference with the horse he turned slightly and motioned us forward.

If I had thought the pace before was bad, this was hell. It wasn't quite flat-out running, but it was close. Though I could keep up the pace – I kept myself in shape, both from visits to the gym and lots of running after fleeing perps – something in the back of my head was niggling at me. A growing feeling of anger – why the hell was I running? I'd seen these things, I could take them! Or if I couldn't, I'd damn well better go down fighting, rather than run down and butchered like a deer.

I shook my head – if the elf wanted us to keep running, there was probably a good reason for it and that's all there was to this, I told myself firmly. Even so, I could feel my senses trying to wriggle higher than I'd set them, no doubt courtesy of the adrenaline I was running on.

We'd been running uphill, the trees thinning out on either side of us, but now I could sense the incline was beginning to slacken off. We were coming to flatter – and clearer – ground.

I glanced back just in time to see some of the Riders burst out of the trees on either side of the stretch of roadway we'd just cleared. I drew back my lips in a silent snarl, and skidded to a stop while turning fully to face them. I could hear elf-boy shouting at Frodo to ride for some ford, but didn't hear any galloping until a smack told me that Glorfindel had decided to get his horse going the old-fashioned way with a whack on the bum.

I didn't dare turn and look, however, because one of the Riders chose that moment to give a shriek that seemed to drill into my skull through the bridge of my nose. I braced myself for a fight, but to my surprise they rode on by and ignored me. Wondering what on Earth could have got them to do that, I spun around.

The Riders had passed by most of the expedition in favor of pursuing Frodo – who, thankfully, was by this point a speck of white in my forcefully dulled vision. Still, I wasn't about to let those things have even the slightest chance of catching up to the little guy, and I started sprinting after them, aware of Glorfindel ahead and to my left and Strider slightly to the rear and my right. I followed the elf's lead as best I could; it looked like he was headed for a small hollow near the river that had appeared out of the distance.

The Riders had come up hard against the river's bank, while Frodo was almost across on the elf's horse. They appeared to be singularly reluctant to cross, or even set a foot in the water, and I grinned ferally. The river itself gave me an odd feeling up and down my spine, but we had these ghouls trapped up against it. Now to go in for the kill.

The elf was slowing down, though. I slowed too, though I was distinctly unhappy. We had them, we had them cornered, and we were stopping? "What. Are. You. _Doing_?" I growled. He appeared to be gathering sticks. "Building a fire. Quickly!" I opened my mouth to snap at him, then remembered the fight on the hill and closed it. It was smart to have something fight with, I figured, but I wasn't about to say anything aloud.

Without another word, I hurried off to the undergrowth nearby and started grabbing what sticks I could find. I had maybe half an armful when a muted roaring sound in the distance caught my attention. I glanced quickly in the direction the sound was coming from, but without letting vision slip any higher than it already was – when had it gotten _that_ high? - I couldn't make anything out. I knew if I let one sense slip an inch they'd all take a mile, so I shoved it back down and hurried back to where the hobbits had joined us and gotten a small flame going already.

I dumped the bundle next to the fire and turned to keep an eye on the Riders. Whatever the roar was, they'd heard it too, and it was clearly spooking them. The milled about for a few more moments before some unseen signal had them all wheeling around as one. They were headed straight for us, and I tensed.

For a timeless instant, I was back in the jungle, glaring at the pale figures that rapidly approached through the jaguar's eyes, but an exclamation from Glorfindel drew me back. "Drive them toward the river!" he commanded, picking up a brand from the fire in one hand and readying his sword in the other. I glanced at him sharply. "Won't that drive them back toward Frodo?" I asked, not really caring that I'd growled at him. He didn't seem to care either. "Frodo is safe in elven territory! Now, they come for us." I huffed and turned to the fire to grab burning brands of my own. As I did, I saw the jaguar stalking around the edge of the fire. I half-turned toward it, then it leapt at me and the world faded away.

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><p>I watched, mouth hanging open, as Lord Glorfindel and Jim sprang into action at almost the same instant. Lord Glorfindel was faster, but not as much faster as I would have thought. And Jim was matching him almost evenly in grace and fluidity. <em>Just like on the hill.<em>

I gasped, and started watching Jim more intently. I still hadn't shaken the sight of his after that fight – they had definitely been yellow, not blue, and I still hadn't gotten an explanation of that "spirit animal" business.

A warning cry from Merry had me ducking reflexively, and I waved my little firebrand in the direction of the Rider that had managed to get near while I was worrying. It didn't seem to be doing much, and fell to the ground after tripping over a small stone. I looked up in terror...And Jim was there, roaring, and the horse was backing away. All the horses were, slowly being driven into the river.

Just as the last one had been forced in, a great hissing roar met my ears. A wall of water, taller even than Lord Glorfindel, barreled it's way down the creek. I blinked in stupefied amazement and rubbed my eyes, but the crest of white horses made of foam remained on the top of the wave. They galloped over the Black Riders without breaking stride, and by the time they reached the next bend, nothing remained of those horrible riders or their foul beasts of burden.

As the roar faded away, I looked around, a profound sense of relief making me weak at the knees. Then I saw Jim, standing stiff as a board, looking at the creek. "Jim!"

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><p><strong>Update 619/2013**: **New poll up on my profile - where do you think Jim should find Blair?**


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